


Teenage Troublemaker

by LostGirl27



Series: Little Troublemaker [1]
Category: Gilmore Girls
Genre: Family, Family Fluff, Father/son fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Logan being a Dad, Teenage Drama, father/son relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:42:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23526340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostGirl27/pseuds/LostGirl27
Summary: So, during the whole Coronavirus drama, I did something I found hilarious and borrowed the characters from my own story and quiddled a little with time; or I fastened it forward, to be more precise. Milo Huntzberger is now a 13-year-old teenager and gets himself into trouble with his Dad.Also, I added two new characters to the mix, just for the fun of it and because I needed one of them for a scene. You'll see it when you get there. ;-) And as for the names… feel free to comment on how much you like them or not. If you have followed my original story of "Little Troublemaker": I have a plan to reveal the story behind the names of Milo's siblings at some point.Oh, and just for the record: Yeah, there will be some parental spanking in there somewhere. Nothing dramatic, nothing terrible. If it's not your thing, don't read it. You have been warned.
Relationships: Rory Gilmore/Logan Huntzberger
Series: Little Troublemaker [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/325976
Comments: 17
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter 1

**Milo’s POV**

“You know what? I actually don’t want to hear your explanation right now, Milo. Go to your room, we’ll deal with this later” Dad told me, his voice thick with anger and disappointment. My heart fell and I could feel my own anger building up inside of me. He couldn’t be serious!

“Consider yourself grounded, though. No TV, no Playstation, no laptop for the time being. I’ll be up to discuss this further with you as soon as I’m done with the rest of my paperwork.”

We were standing in his stupid home office and I kept my gaze firmly locked onto the carpet and the caps of his toes right in front of me, my cheeks burning hot. I could hear my Dad sigh in what sounded like a terrible mixture of disbelief and frustration and saw his shoes moving around slightly, which indicated to me that he was now leaning against his massive desk with his lower back. A quick flicker of my eyes upwards confirmed that, and I was also able to see that he had both his arms crossed over his chest. My stomach did a flip-flop at that, because I could only imagine the angry look plastered all over his features right now. I still hadn’t moved an inch, though, and that’s what got my Dad’s attention.

“I believe I told you to go to your room” he stated and I was surprised at how tired his voice sounded. My head shot up and for the first time since he had started scolding me, I looked him directly in the eyes – the eyes that were just like mine; well, shape-wise, at least. At thirteen, my eyes that used to be as deep blue as my Mom’s had darkened considerably and where now almost the colour of my Dad’s eyes.

The look he was giving me now was as stern and steely as ever, but there was also concern in there somewhere. And that concern tugged at my nerves mightily. I could feel my heartrate quickening.

“It’s just not fair, Dad” I suddenly heard myself whining. If possible, my Dad’s look turned even sterner at that.

“Excuse me?” he asked incredulously, slightly moving forwards and bending down a little to be at the same height as me.

“I said, it’s just not FAIR!” I repeated, much louder this time and my stupid teenage voice cracking at the last word, which I all but yelled. Dad just shook his head tiredly, moved backwards and to his full height again and pinched the bridge of his nose. He had already told me twice to go to my room and that he didn’t want to discuss the topic right now, yet I had opted to yell at him instead of listening. I could feel his patience disappearing and I winced.

“Sorry” I muttered unhappily. To my surprise, his voice was gentle when he looked at me again and said: “It’s okay, son”, waving my little outburst lazily away with his hand.

“But that doesn’t change the fact that you got caught cheating on that math test and that your teacher called me and your Mom to inform us about that and about you giving her a hard time when she called you on it. To top it off, you got into a fight with one of your classmates after school, right in front of your Mom when she came to pick you up” he then said, turning stern once more and raising a single eyebrow at me.

He let the summary of what had happened at school hanging in the air and waited for it to sink in for a moment, then added: “And it also doesn’t change the fact that I told you to go to your room and wait for me there and that you and I will have a chat later, as soon as I’m done with my work – and oh, believe me, we will talk.”

Still, I hesitated. My feet just wouldn’t do as they were told. Or was there something else holding me back? I honestly didn’t know. It wasn’t as if I had a death wish or any of the sort…

Suddenly, Dad reached out both his arms and put his hands on top of my shoulders and cocked his head to the side, searching my eyes.

“Alright, I have got a question for you and I expect an honest answer; as in words, no shrugging and no nodding, clear?”

“Yes, sir” I replied automatically and it was now my Dad’s turn to wince. I knew instantly that he hadn’t exactly anticipated being called sir. He didn’t say anything to that, though and recovered quite quickly.

“You know me better than anyone else, except maybe for your Mom or your brother and sister, although the twins haven’t been around me for the same amount of time as you. Answer me this, little one: Have I ever lied to you or broken a promise I gave you?”

“No. Never” I answered without a second thought, because it was true. My stomach flip-flopped again at being called the nickname he had used for me all throughout my childhood and that he still liked to call me once in a while.

“Uh-huh. So if I tell you that I _really_ would like you to go to your room and that you won’t like what happens if you disobey me right now and make me tell you a fifth time, I suppose you know that I’m not joking around here. The only reason why I haven’t threatened you with some not-so-pleasant consequences for your little bum as of yet is that I simply don’t want to have to follow through with it, at least not before we’ve had the chance to talk about your stunt at school.”

I gulped audibly. My Dad hadn’t spanked me in years. To come to think about it, he hadn’t even threatened to spank me in more than two years and the last time he did whale on my sorry butt had been three years ago, when I had decided that it was a good idea to _borrow_ his SUV for a spin… at least that was what I’d had in mind, but I hadn’t been able to make it any further than starting the car and loosening the hand brake, when quite suddenly, the door to the driver’s seat had swung open and I had been hauled out of the car and immediately had been turned sideways and gotten three hard smacks to the seat of my jeans. I hadn’t even been able to protest at all, even though I had wanted to protest – and loudly, at that – when my Dad had turned me back around to face him. Without saying anything, he had given me one of his special no-nonsense looks, then had reached around me and had halfway leaned into the car, turned the engine off and the hand brake on again, then had grabbed me by my right bicep and steered me inside the house where I had gotten one hell of a stern lecture from both him and my Mom and to top it all off, he had given me a full spanking on top of the swats he had already doled out.

So when Dad arched an unamused eyebrow at me _again_ , I finally managed to turn around and flee the room.

On my way to my own room, I was suddenly propelled by two smaller figures and I grunted, looking down into two almost identical faces with an amusement I didn’t really feel at the moment.

“Milo! Wanna play with us?” Lucas and Lori exclaimed in unison, either twin taking one of my hands and already starting towards the playroom with me in tow, when my Mom appeared behind us all of a sudden.

“Nuh-uh, you three, stop it right there. Milo, you go to your room and wait for your father” she ordered in her most serious tone and I immediately turned around to face her, as did my younger siblings. Before Lucas and Lori could protest, Mom held up a hand to silence them and eyed them sternly. “Lucas, Lori, you can continue onwards and indeed go into the playroom and do what I told you to do earlier, which was to clean up the mess in there. Now scoot, the three of you.”

I allowed myself the luxury of sighing heavily as both Lucas and Lori groaned out loud but obeyed. They let go of my hands and made a dash for the playroom and I gave my Mom a pleading look as she stood there at the bottom of the stairs, arms folded, seemingly waiting for me to walk past her and upstairs.

“Mom, please!” I started begging as soon as I was within reaching distance of her. “I didn’t even… please, Mom, you’ve got to listen to me, please!” I just couldn’t help the stammering, I honestly didn’t know how to express and explain myself at that moment. I just wanted her to stop looking at me so damn serious and I wanted both her and Dad to listen to my side of the story, which I didn’t even know how to start with. So actually, I didn’t want to talk at all, I just wanted this whole day to be over and start again fresh and with a clean slate.

“I didn’t mean to cheat, I uh… I mean, well, yeah, I did, but I… and I didn’t mean to push Jordan after school, I just couldn’t stand that he was making fun of me… but, uh, I really didn’t mean to!” I rambled on, and then fell quiet. She shook her head sadly and momentarily looked as if she was about to scold me some of her own, but instead, she reached around my thin shoulders and hugged me to her chest.

I almost broke down in tears at the sudden comfort I received, not having realized how much I needed it right now. I didn’t say anything else; I just soaked up her well-known scent and the comforting hug she offered. After a few moments of silence, she gently pushed me away and gave me a tender smile. “My little monkey” she stated, reaching out and ruffling my short blond hair. Normally, I would immediately protest and duck away so she couldn’t “destroy” the way I always fixed my hair (mostly just the way my Dad had showed me and how he fixed his), but not today. Today, my heart and conscience were heavy and tired and I just couldn’t wrap my brain around as to how I was supposed to get myself out of that stupid hole I had dug earlier that day and that had only my name on it.

“When have you turned from my little boy to…” she stopped midsentence, looking at me fondly, silently contemplating. “… to a little jerk that gets caught cheating and fighting, you mean?” I finished the sentence for her and she immediately reacted as soon as the words were out. She stopped ruffling my hair and looking at me with that fond smile – instead, she took me by surprise when she reached out and gave my thigh a rather sharp sideways smack; she surely had meant to hit my butt but hadn’t been able to reach it.

“Don’t you ever call yourself such a name again, young man. I won’t tolerate it and neither will your Dad, do you hear?”

I nodded, mentally kicking myself for riling her up. I had meant for it to be a joke, but quite obviously, none of my parents were in the mood to joke around with me right now.

“Sorry, Mom, I didn’t mean it.” I rubbed my right hand up and down my thigh and was surprised at how much it tingled.

“I was going to say, when have you turned from my little boy to such a big boy with even bigger problems?” she asked, her voice calm and rather tired-sounding once more. I looked at her directly then and nearly shuddered. The look she was giving me was still hard, despite how calm her voice had sounded. She sighed then and completely released me.

“Go on now, Milo” she ordered. “And while you’re in there, you could actually start cleaning your room, too. It’s one big mess, just like the playroom.”

I hesitated once more. “Mom? Do you think Dad will… forgive me?”

She answered without hesitation. “Of course he will, hasn’t he always? Haven’t we always? And you’ll get the chance to explain yourself, like you always do. Don’t worry, we’ll get through this and everything will be alright.”

I still felt a little nervous – no, scratch that, I felt as if a million butterflies were inside of me, happily flying around – but I managed to make it to my room in about ten seconds. I opened the door and stepped inside. My room was indeed the same mess it had been in the morning when I had left for school. My Mom had jokingly commented that one day, I’d be woken up by the long-lost Yeti that would simply emerge from the great pile of clothes I kept inside my walk-in closet and demand that I be a better host and feed him. I had cockily answered that he could be my guest at any time and I would simply feed him the foods I didn’t like that much and my Dad had finished my sentence and quipped “Oh, like your Mom’s mac and cheese, for example?” And we both had shared a laugh, just as Mom had started smacking Dad on the head with the newspaper. “Stop corrupting my boy!” she’d scolded mildly, to which Dad and I had only laughed harder and the twins had started to join in on the fun, listing all the meals they didn’t fancy Mom cooking. Those memories seemed now as though they were at least a thousand miles away.

I huffed unhappily and made my way over to my desk, scanning the various notebooks, pens, schoolbooks and other items, until my eyes took in my MacBook. I contemplated my next move while staring at it. Dad had told me to leave all my electronics be, but one quick look at my school emails wouldn’t hurt, now, would it? Then again, I didn’t really fancy him walking in on me being on my laptop, after he had specifically told me that I wasn’t to touch it. Suddenly, I felt new anger boiling inside of me. I clenched my fists. Who was he to _ground_ me from _my_ things, anyway? I wasn’t a little boy anymore; I was almost fourteen, for crying out loud! I didn’t need him telling me what to do!

I groaned loudly and took a seat on my bed, eyeing my laptop moodily for quite some time from afar, until I heard footsteps and involuntarily tensed up. When my door opened without knocking, I knew instantly that it wasn’t my Dad – my Dad always knocked before coming in.

“Milo?” a timid little voice asked and I turned my head in the direction of it, lightly smiling at my little brother who was standing at the door, holding the door handle and meekly peeking at me. My anger hadn’t melted away in the slightest, but I just couldn’t help grinning at my brother who looked just like a miniature version of me and our Dad.

“What do you want?” I asked in response, immediately feeling a little guilty at the hurt look on his face.

“Are you in big trouble with Daddy?” he asked, eyes wide, stressing the word “big”.

“He’s not happy with me at the moment, no” I replied gruffly and motioned for the five-year-old to come in. To my surprise, he shook his head no at my gesture.

“I’m not allowed in here” he whispered, turning his head and checking behind him if the coast was clear. “Mommy and Daddy told me so. Daddy said you needed to stay in your room on your own and that I wasn’t allowed to play with you, ‘cause you are angry and in trouble.”

“Oh, he did, didn’t he?” I glared at Lucas, all the angry feelings that I had held inside for the better part of the afternoon starting to overwhelm me. “Well, you can go and tell _Daddy_ that he’s just an old prat and that he needs to remove the stick in his ass, because maybe that would help _him_ with _his_ anger issues. See what he has to say about that!”

Lucas gave me a questioning look, clearly having understood only half of it, which only angered me more.

“Get out, Lu, before I make you” I told him, seething. He looked at me with a shocked expression, then turned around and ran, leaving the door to my room wide open. Even though he was my little brother and could be a downright pest sometimes, I had never thrown him out of my room before, neither had I done that with Lori. I loved the twins to pieces and both of them knew it – heck, all of my friends and family knew it.

I sighed, already feeling some of the anger evaporating. “Great move, Huntzberger” I mumbled to myself and slowly got up to close the door. “Now you’ve probably made the little guy cry. You’re a real jerk.”

I returned to my bed and in one swift motion, threw myself onto it and stretched out. I couldn’t get comfortable though, because the guilt I felt was already gnawing away at me and the thoughts of what had happened were, too.

I spent about ten minutes like this and was just about to get up and start cleaning some of the mess in my room up when suddenly, my door opened once again. I sighed once more when I saw Lucas peeking inside my room for a second time that day.

“What do you want now, short stuff?” I asked, a small smile on my lips at the unsure look on his face. “Look, I didn’t mean what I said to you earlier. I was being mean when I threw you out. Okay?”

Lucas nodded his head slowly. “Please don’t be mad at me anymore, Milo” he said tentatively, his voice almost a whisper. “I did what you telled me to do.”

I smirked at the common grammar mistake and automatically corrected him, thinking that he was talking about me throwing him out earlier. “Told you to do, you mean” and he nodded. “Yeah, I know you did what I asked you to do, but I shouldn’t have done that. If you want and the folks are okay with it now, you can stay and watch your big brother actually get some cleaning done in here, without having to help…”

“I told Daddy what you said” he grinned proudly, but didn’t make a move to actually come inside. “But it didn’t work, ‘cause he got even angrier.” At his words, my heart almost stopped and I almost choked on my own spit.

“What??! You did what?” Oh shit. Apparently, at five, the little guy couldn’t grasp the whole concept of sarcastic exaggerations at all.

My whole body tensed and I got goose bumps all over and the little hair on my neck had started standing up. “What… what do you mean, you told him?” I asked desperately, taking two big strides and standing before him. I opened the door rather forcefully and my brother anxiously stepped back, his grin vanishing.

“Yeah, I told him what you said… you told me I should and that I should see what he has to say about it!” he replied, giving me a questioning look, before turning his head to the left and smiling apologetically into the direction of where, sure enough, I heard footsteps coming our way. I didn’t need to check for myself who it was, I already knew.

“Lucas, what did I tell you?” I heard my father’s voice and I couldn’t help be surprised at how casual he sounded. I then heard buzzing in my ears and actually felt my cheeks turning a dark shade of red. My Dad walked over and leaned against my door frame, only having eyes for Lucas at that moment, which I was rather thankful for. I was sure, if he’d looked at me and if looks had the ability of killing, I’d be six feet under in an instant.

“Erm… to leave Milo alone and go play outside?” my little brother tried and Dad crossed his arms in front of his chest once more, giving him a meaningful look.

“And what, may I ask, are you doing up here, then, smarty?” he asked, using his special nickname for Lucas and his voice still sounding casual, only with a small stern edge to it. The fact that he sounded so damn calm creeped me out to no end, because surely, he must be mad as hell at the moment. I had cursed at him – no, far worse. I had told my little brother to curse at him on my behalf. Things were going pretty bad.

I felt sweat forming underneath my armpits and my mouth going dry. I had my gaze firmly locked onto the floor, not wanting to look my Dad in the eyes right now.

“I’m sorry, Daddy. I just wanted to check on Milo” Lucas explained and I could hear the genuine concern in his voice. I raised my head slightly to be able to look at Lucas.

“That’s really nice of you, but don’t you worry about your brother. That’s my job” my Dad replied and I could hear the grim undercurrent beneath his words. “Just go outside and play with Lori and your Mom, I’ll be downstairs in a while and join you.”

“Can Milo come outside, too?” Lucas asked and gave Dad his best puppy-dog-eyes, making him chuckle. A flicker of my eyes told me that Dad indeed was sporting a wide smile and my heart fell at the sight. I had a sick feeling that it would take quite some time before he would smile at me like that again.

“Not right now, he can’t” Dad said and I could hear the hardness in his voice returning. “Milo and I need to have a talk first, I’m afraid.”

“Okay” Lucas grumbled and turned, but before he left, he looked at Dad once more and stated, rather sternly: “He’s the bestest big brother in the world, so be nice!”

My heart went out to him and I needed to fight the urge to abandon my current place at my door and go hug the little guy.

“Hey, I’m always nice” I heard Dad protest and I almost snorted but luckily for me, I managed to refrain from that somehow. When Lucas was gone, silence commenced, at least for a few short moments.

“Well, my favourite mouthy, teenage son, seems as if there’s only you and me left” he stated the obvious after a few seconds and I nodded slowly, still not looking at him or moving. I heard him sighing.

My stomach clenched rather painfully and I saw from the corner of my eye that Dad was moving from leaning against the door frame until he stood right in front of me. I half expected him to just grab me and haul me into my room and straight over his lap to start tanning my hide, but he didn’t.

“Anyway, the funniest thing happened” he picked up his speech again instead, sounding rather conversationally. He stepped into my room and looked around casually, grimacing slightly when he took in the mess. I took a few steps back and watched as he ever so calmly closed the door behind himself. “Your little brother informed me that there was something you would like to say to me. Something you obviously couldn’t say to me earlier and found so sensational and important that you had Lucas tell me instead.”

A small whimper escaped my mouth before I could stop myself and I briefly closed my eyes.

When I opened them again, I winced involuntarily. Dad was now right in front of me, his face only inches away from mine, his sharp brown eyes piercing mine.

“How about you take a seat before we get into that, though” he suggested, although it was more an order than anything else. Without further hesitation, I flopped onto my bed and refused to look at Dad now, choosing to stare at my bedding and comforter. I heard him moving around in my room, then finally grabbing my desk chair and placing it opposite from me. He sat down and heaved another sigh.

“Okay, I get that all the patterns on your comforter can be kind of nice to look at, but I’d like to think that I’m a little more interesting than those” he commented and I felt a chill going down my spine at his still very casual tone. I forced myself to look up at him again. He had his arms crossed in front of his chest, his legs were stretched out and folded on top of each other and he looked right back at me with an unreadable expression that did nothing to put me at ease.

“So, I was just about to tell you that story of… ah, well, you see, I was working on my papers down in my office when Lucas walked in and told me that there was something you’d like to say to me” he began, sounding as if he was about to tell me one hell of a good joke. While his tone and his face seemed calm, he raised both eyebrows at me, which was never a good sign and I gulped once more. “He already told me what you said, but, I have to admit, I am not entirely sure that I heard right, so I was wondering if you could repeat it back to me directly.”

I swallowed nervously, probably looking like a deer caught in the headlights as I heard him speak, shaking my head slowly. There was no way in hell I was repeating what I had said to Lucas earlier.

“That wasn’t a rhetorical question, little man, so please speak up” Dad commented dryly. “In my _old age_ I sometimes cannot keep up with everything that’s going on around me and sometimes I seem to mishear things, so please do tell me what you told him.”

“Uh, it was nothing” I choked out. “And, Dad, uh… I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry.”

“Ah, now you’re sorry, aren’t you” he responded, not unkindly. “I can see that you are sorry now, which is not a bad thing, mind you. But I fear that being sorry isn’t really going to cut it this time.”

“But, uh, I’m…” I started lamely, fumbling around with the bedding, “Yeah, I know, you’re sorry” he interrupted, sounding angry for the first time. “I would really prefer it if you didn’t need to be sorry, though, and I would prefer it if you had thought twice about cheating on that stupid math test and picking a fight, because right now, I cannot fathom a reason as to why you deemed it clever to do any of those things. And what’s more, I would really prefer it if you had refrained from getting your little brother involved, as you were already in a pretty big heap of trouble without doing that.”

I couldn’t think of a single thing to say besides voicing yet another apology, but I knew that he wouldn’t react kindly to that, so I just kept silent and gave him an apologetic look instead.

Dad took in a deep breath and unfolded his legs, leaning forward and placing his elbows on his knees, so he could put his chin on his hands and look at me intently.

“So, again I ask you, my _very young_ , very sorry little boy, what was it _exactly_ you said to Lucas about me?”

I groaned now, looking anywhere but at him. I could tell that he wasn’t ever going to let this go, though – if one thought I was stubborn, they hadn’t had to deal with Logan Huntzberger yet. I closed my eyes again and then whispered: “I, uh… I said you were an, uh… old uh, prat and that you, um… that you needed to take the stick out of your, uh, well, you know, and deal with your own anger issues.” My face felt so hot with shame that I was surprised it didn’t melt right off. “I’m sorry, Dad” I added quickly. “I was angry – I didn’t mean it, honestly. And I didn’t mean for Lucas to say it to you.”

“Look at me, son” he ordered softly and I did, hating how little this whole discussion made me feel. The look he was giving me was still serious, but it lacked the former unforgiving touch. “Apology accepted, although I don’t recommend you do it again. And if I hear that you used such a language _in front of_ your little brother or sister again, I won’t be so lenient. Do I make myself clear?”

“Very clear” I mumbled, wanting nothing more than to be somewhere else. Or to punch something – that would also help me immensely.

“Wonderful” he replied humourlessly and cleared his throat. “So… I know you and I know that you normally wouldn’t talk like that. What was it that got you so angry that you felt the need to call your old man a prat?”

I shrugged at the question, having no idea as to how I was supposed to give a sufficient answer to that. Couldn’t he just accept my apology and stop asking stupid questions altogether? I would even prefer for him to just go ahead and punish me for the stuff that had happened at school, as long as he didn’t make me talk.

My musings were interrupted by Dad standing up, walking over and sitting beside me. He then proceeded to lift my chin gently with his hand and turning it a little, so he was able to look me in the eye once more. With the other hand, he briefly ruffled through my hair, then gently cupped my cheek.

“I suppose I haven’t started this conversation the right way and mistakenly given you the impression that it was up to you to decide if you wanted to give me honest answers or not” he said, his eyes – odd enough – dancing with amusement before turning stern. It scared me how easily I was able to read him and how much looking at him felt like looking at myself through a mirror. He let go of my cheek but continued holding my chin and I fought hard against the urge to just wriggle free and push him away. “I told you earlier that we were going to talk about today and I’m planning on doing that, whether you like to or not. Now, if you want, you can talk to me while still sitting comfortably or I can arrange for a little reminder that cussing at me has never had a positive outcome for you. I didn’t tolerate it when you were five and from where I’m standing, nothing has changed. You’re still my boy and I’m still your Dad. I treat you with respect and would never even think of calling you names, so I can expect the same from you, regardless of how angry you get.”

He let go of my face completely. “But, Dad! You said that you accepted my apology for… that!” I accused and couldn’t help the whine that crept right into my speech as I talked.

“And I did” he replied sincerely. “That doesn’t mean that I won’t punish you for it when I have a feeling that you didn’t learn your lesson here or keep defying me.”

I groaned dramatically and once again, clenched my hands into fists.

“Start talking, kiddo. Last chance.”

Sensing that there was no way out, I sighed heavily and did what he had asked me to do. More so, I started from the very beginning and told him everything that had happened today.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ** paternal spanking of a minor in this chapter ** … but also lots of fluff.

**Logan’s POV**

My son’s voice was shaking, now and then almost cracking with emotion and never louder than a mere whisper the whole time he spoke and tried to explain his foolish actions to me. He started right at the beginning, which was standing up in the morning, having breakfast together with all of us and from that on, his whole day had apparently gone downhill pretty quickly: From almost missing the school bus to losing his student’s ID somewhere between the bus and his first lesson and even more teenage angst throughout his school day, until he finally started telling me all about the math test. I groaned inwardly and couldn’t help but feel more than a little sympathy for my kid. Poor little troublemaker. Poor nearly fourteen-year-old troublemaker – wait a sec, when did that happen anyway?

To me, Milo was still that five-year-old boy that I had to punish for reckless behaviour like jumping into the pool without an adult present or taking his Grandpa’s wood saw or climbing onto the kitchen counter in order to steal some forbidden cookies, or for being overly cheeky and sassing both at me and Rory. I couldn’t believe that his siblings had somehow taken over the role of the mischievous five-year-olds (obviously, duh, since they _were_ five years old) and that he, my firstborn, was now on the verge of becoming a young man. _Young man_ – how many times had his mother and I used exactly that term when referring to him, both to get his attention and express our displeasure? I almost chuckled at the thought, because I knew how much he hated it and I knew how much I had hated it while growing up.

“Dad, you aren’t even listening!” Milo suddenly complained, glaring at me and interrupting my thoughts. I gave him an apologetic look and cleared my throat, raising my hand and twirling it as to sign for him to continue. When he didn’t and just kept up the sullen look on his face, I sighed.

“I’m sorry, baby boy. I’m all ears, no more wandering thoughts” I told him, patting his right knee softly.

“Stop calling me that! I’m not a baby!” he grouched, crossing his arms in front of his chest and staring moodily into space. He looked every bit just like the grumpy five-year-old he once was and I had to fight hard as to keep the loving smile off my face. A small one danced around my lips anyhow, but he was too busy glaring to care.

“I know you are not a baby anymore and I honestly wasn’t implying that you were or trying to belittle you. You’re thirteen and you will be fourteen soon, in only four months... Believe me, I know. It’s just… force of habit, I suppose” I explained patiently, honestly understanding his frustration and hoping that all of it hadn’t come out as a ramble. “I’m sorry, son. Please, do continue. You were just about to tell me what happened before your math lesson that made you think cheating would be a good idea. Now tell me, what went wrong? I thought you and I had those math problems covered last week?”

I gave him a reassuring smile and simply waited, watching as he looked uncertainly at me and then bit his lip.

“Well?” I prodded, letting just a hint of sternness sip into my voice.

“I… don’t know, Dad” he stated, averting his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Okay, this wouldn’t do, not at all – and not just because I didn’t want to hear how sorry he was, but because I also could hear at his tone that he didn’t mean it in the slightest. Urgh. Sometimes, being a Dad made me want to scream in frustration while tearing my hair out at the same time.

“As I said already, sorry is all well and good and we will get to the point where you will feel especially sorry” I told him pointedly, trying hard to keep my temper at bay, “But first and foremost, I don’t want to hear an apology, I would rather hear an explanation.”

That seemed to add fuel to the flames, as he graced me with yet another infuriated glare, then he suddenly hopped off the bed. I almost expected him to bolt or start throwing things, but instead, he started pacing.

Good man, I thought, feeling rather proud of him. Very mature. Burn off some of that temper of yours – and then please tell me if you think it would work for me, too.

I watched Milo pacing for nearly five minutes and almost winced when he suddenly stopped and looked at me again heatedly. Time for round two.

“Feel better?” I asked, voice still stern to show him that he wasn’t off the hook.

He ignored my question completely. “It wasn’t even my fault!” he then exclaimed just like he had done a little while back when we were standing in my home office. He crossed his arms in front of his chest once more, doing a perfect imitation of my own serious look. Sensing that he had a little more to say than that, I didn’t comment.

“It was yours.”

At that, my eyes widened – not only that, I guess I must have looked quite the freight and my forehead was almost smarting at the way I had raised both my eyebrows.

I opened my mouth to say something – or yell, rather – but the next thing he said – or yelled, rather – took the cake.

“It’s your stupid fault; I did it only because of you!”

I could feel anger rushing through my veins and I already saw myself springing up from the boy’s bed, walking over to him and smacking the living daylights out of him, but of course, I didn’t. Instead, I stood up, took a calming yet shaky breath and realized with annoyance that my fury was still there. That wasn’t good. I suddenly came quite close to do or say something I would really regret afterwards, his accusation having hit home. What was that little brat thinking, talking to me like that and blaming his stupid actions at school on me?

I desperately counted to ten in my head, keeping my gaze on the floor and clenching my fists. When that didn’t help much, I counted to fifteen. Just as I was about to count to twenty for good measure, the little rascal upped the ante and cockily murmured: “Yeah, now you don’t know what to say anymore, huh?”

To hell with the ten, with the fifteen and the twenty. In less than a second, I was by him and had invaded his personal space, looking at him sternly. He gulped, finally noticing that he had probably overdone it a bit.

“That’s right, young man. I’m suggesting that you take a few deep breaths and remember who you are speaking to.”

He blinked two times and I held my breath, wondering what he would do now – would he choose common sense or would he go ahead and choose his own demise?

“I know who I’m talking to; I’m not dumb, not like you!”

Oh, little troublemaker. Poor choice of words.

“Alright, I’ve had it” I deadpanned, momentarily closing my eyes and releasing the breath I had been holding. Then I glared at him, ignoring the little noise of distress and surprise he gave, took him by the forearm and steered him back over to his bed.

I didn’t let him show how nervous I was and how much I despised what I planned to do, took a seat on the mattress and unceremoniously pulled him face-down over my lap. His whole body tensed up, he struggled against my grip and immediately started pleading with me, but I pushed the guilt that came with it away and, as soon as I had him in place, brought down my hand sharply on the upturned little backside. As this was only meant to be a wake-up call, I didn’t rid him of his jeans or underwear, just delivered seven relatively hard smacks and then stopped.

In one swift motion, I turned him upwards again, placed him on his feet and tugged gently at his shirt that had rolled up during the short spanking and then looked him in the face, instantly noticing the bright red cheeks and the few tears that had escaped.

His eyes were still shooting daggers at me, so I was more than a little surprised when he took one step forward and suddenly clung to me, wrapping his thin arms around my middle and placing his head in the crook of my neck.

“Dad” he mumbled desperately and I reacted on instinct, immediately pulling him into my lap and wrapping him into a warm embrace.

That seemed to do the trick, since I could hear him start sobbing softly and felt his body relax. His arms snaked from my torso upwards to my neck and like that he stayed, crying his little heart out and shaking, while I simply held him and whispered into his ear how much I loved him and that everything would be okay.

“You are okay, little one, everything’s fine. Daddy’s here” I told him, rubbing soothing circles onto his back and using my other hand to support his lower back. “Just let it all out, there’s my good boy. I love you and I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

I kept that up for quite some time and when his sobbing stopped and I heard his breathing returning back to normal, I attempted to push him back a little to be able to look at his face, but he whined in response, tightening his hold on me and grabbing a handful of my shirt with one hand.

I chuckled. “It’s okay, kiddo, you’re okay. Let me have a look at you.”

He sighed and it nearly broke my heart when he finally pulled back on his own and tentatively gazed at me. I smiled at him sadly and reached out a hand to push his blonde fringe back and cup his damp cheek gently.

“Would you like a handkerchief?” I asked and he nodded.

I let him climb off my lap and stood, while he transferred himself onto his bed. When I handed him the handkerchief, he took it and gingerly dabbed at his face.

“Are you okay, champ?” I then wanted to know, the concern evident in my voice. I once again took a seat beside him and pulled him in for a one-armed hug. He didn’t hesitate one second and rested his head on my chest.

“Yeah. You didn’t have to hit me that hard, though” he replied, looking up and giving me an adorable pout.

I almost heaved a sigh of relief – if he was well enough to argue with me again, it meant that he was okay.

“I didn’t hit you, Milo. I never have, never would and you know it” I responded earnestly. “I spanked you.”

He groaned and turned beet red once more. “You didn’t have to… you know… that hard” he grumbled, clearly not wanting to say the word. “It hurt... a little.”

“Well, probably not, but I don’t really fancy being called dumb or getting yelled at, especially not by my son” I answered with just a hint of sternness. His pout intensified and he dropped his gaze. “So yeah, I guess it’s supposed to hurt, if only _a little_ , to show you that I mean business. And FYI, I’d totally _you-know_ you again, if there should be a revision of the way you just behaved.”

“Sorry. You’re not dumb, Dad” he apologized meekly, playing around with the zipper of his jumper, the tips of his ears now turning red as well.

“Why, thank you, buddy” I drawled, smirking when I saw an apologetic look cross his face and once again giving him some space by taking my arm off from his shoulders.

“But you still think it’s my fault that you got in trouble at school” I pressed, trying to keep my tone neutral. “Wanna tell me why? I promise I’ll hear you out, as long as you are respectful.”

Milo tensed a little at that, but I could tell that he was a lot more willing to talk now. He kept his head down while he spoke and I had to really concentrate on being able to follow him, since everything he said came out as one long sentence, without any pauses in-between.

“It’s your fault because… because when we did the math problems together, you wouldn’t leave me alone and were telling me over and over how important it was for me to make top grades and that it wasn’t enough if I just did my best. You wanted As so I needed to make sure that I got one.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Milo’s POV**

I couldn’t help but wince when I saw the look of confusion and lack of sympathy on my Dad’s face after I was done explaining what had led me to the conclusion that cheating would be a good plan. It was true, though, a part of my mind screamed. If it weren’t for my Dad’s constant reminders for me to bring home nothing less than straight As, I would never have thought of taking that idiotic trot with me, let alone actually using it!

At this point, it was my Dad’s turn to stutter, which, I had to admit, pleased me somehow. “But… I didn’t, I… honestly, if I’ve implied to you that you…” he murmured absentmindedly, seemingly trying hard to recap the day we had studied together and what exactly he had said to me back then.

I was just about to say something when he suddenly held up a hand to silence me, his look still giving away that he was deeply in thought.

“Wait a minute. I remember now” he said, his eyes widening while looking seriously at me. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but… when we worked on that math stuff together, I really had the impression that you grasped all those calculations. You managed to answer all of my questions and everything I asked you about it. You did well, champ. So… yeah, I did tell you that I expected the result of the test to be accordingly. But only because I’d already seen how well you did!”

“But…” I wanted to argue, I wanted to say that Dad was in the wrong, but I didn’t, I couldn’t. Suddenly, it struck me. What he had said was true. I had done fairly well when we had discussed the math problems I was supposed to solve for the test, but still… it had tugged on my nerves when Dad had told me what he expected from me.

“You’ll do fine, buddy, I know it!” he’d proclaimed, the eagerness and pride in his voice practically oozing out with every word. “And if you get an A on this test, we’ll go do something fun on the weekend, just the two of us.”

“But, Dad” I had argued hesitantly and he had immediately looked at me, the surprise prominent on his face. “What if I don’t do well? What if I muck it up?”

“You won’t, trust me. You’ll do just fine.”

“But, Dad, _what if_?” I had insisted.

“If you really should fail on the test – which I don’t see happening – then I’ll have to assume that you need more time to study and less time for your hockey practice in the future” he’d answered pointedly. And that’s when the idea of cheating had first popped up in my mind.

When I now looked up once more and into Dad’s dark eyes, he was giving me a knowing look, only the ghost of a smile twitching at the corners of his lips. His trail of thought had seemingly been the exact same as mine.

“So that was it?” he asked. “You didn’t want to get less than an A because I threatened with taking hockey practice away and because I promised you a fun trip if you got one?”

I considered that for a while, glad that, although there was definitely some amusement evident in his voice, he wasn’t trying to take the mick out of me.

He patiently waited for me to answer, stretching both his legs once more and crossing them at the ankles.

“No” I finally answered, hoping that one word combined with my grave tone explained it all. No such luck. Whom was I kidding?

“No?” Dad pressed, casually inspecting the fingernails of his right hand.

I sighed. “No, that’s not… at least it’s not all about the trip or hockey. I just hate it…”

He stopped looking at his fingernails and diverted his undivided attention back to me.

“What do you hate? Maths?”

“No!” I whined, the frustration once more getting the best of me. I nearly expected Dad to get cross with me again, but somehow, he managed to keep his calm expression – and that again encouraged me to go on.

“I hate it when you’re disappointed in me” I whispered and held my breath, wondering what he had to say to that.

“You hate disappointing me?” Dad asked, somewhat incredulously. I felt my cheeks growing hot for the umpteenth time that day and I avoided eye contact with Dad, until he placed one hand on my shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Yeah, I hate it. You get all stern with me and have that disappointed look on your face and I hate that” I stammered, not caring anymore how childish it sounded. “It’s… it’s just not like you. Normally, you are not stern with me, you joke around and you are… you are fun, Dad. And I really hate when you’re not.”

Urgh, why couldn’t I explain it any better than _that_? Quite probably, I did deserve being called a baby, I groused internally. What I’d just said must surely sound ridiculous to him.

“Hey, little man” Dad finally said and I felt relief when he did not sound as if he was about to smirk at me for what I had told him. “Listen. I understand how you feel. It is only natural that you don’t want to disappoint the people you care about – what’s more, you know that both your Mom and I think that it’s important for you to do well in school. So I totally get why you thought you needed to make sure that the outcome of that test would be an A and I even get why you thought you could do that by taking that trot with you. But, Milo, let me tell you this: Even if you had failed on that test, even if you had failed the whole subject or whatever else there is at school, it would never change the fact that you are my son and that I love you. There’s nothing you can do to change that and to make me or your Mom stop feeling that way about you. We’ll always love you, no matter how badly you do at school or muck things up. When it comes to school, the most important thing to us is that you do as best as you can, to the best of your ability. Everything else is secondary.”

At that, I could feel tears prickling rather painfully behind my eyes, but I wouldn’t allow them to fall. Heck, you’re almost a man now, so quit acting like a cry-baby, I told myself.

“So yeah, there will be times when you get in trouble, just like today” Dad explained further. “And sometimes, your Mom and I might even be disappointed in your actions, but that doesn’t mean that we have stopped loving you, because that simply won’t happen. Ever.”

Not knowing what else I could do or say, I just nodded.

“And as for me being stern with you… you are probably right, it’s not normal for me to be like that, especially not with my kids. But sometimes, I have to be like that, because otherwise you guys wouldn’t get how serious a certain situation is” he explained and I could hear that he really tried to be honest and open with me. “I can’t always be the fun Dad, because that wouldn’t do you any good. But I’m glad that you feel comfortable around me when I’m not stern with you, because I want you and your siblings to be able to trust me 100 percent.”

“I do trust you, Dad” I replied easily and I meant it. “Even if you’re stern with me.”

“C’mere, champ” Dad invited and when I turned to look at him, he’d opened his arms. I didn’t even hesitate one second, I just leaned forward and was relieved when he once again wrapped his arms around me. “Remember, I told you the exact same thing when you were five and stressing about disappointing me. That’s how eloquent I am.”

Despite the situation and the crappy day I’d had, I couldn’t help but laugh a little at Dad’s bad attempt at humour. “You told me that I wouldn’t be able to sit down again if I burned the house down” I commented and couldn’t keep the hint of accusation out of my voice. Dad chuckled, hugged me a little tighter and said: “Yup, indeed I did. And I still stand by that, you smart-aleck. But also with everything else I told you back then.”

We stayed like this for a few more minutes, until I felt that he’d hugged me enough. I pulled back and gave Dad a small smile.

“Thanks, Dad” I murmured.

“You’re welcome, but we still need to talk about the other stuff” he answered, winking at me, so I knew that we were still good.

“Now I know why you thought it would be wise to cheat. And while I am really not happy that you did it or that you got in trouble with your teacher because of it, I find the other things you did today more alarming” Dad stated, his tone serious once more. “Do you have a notion what things I’m talking about?”

I sighed. “I told Ms. Rivers off and pushed Jordan after school” I replied, knowing exactly what my Dad was referring to.

“Exactly, smart guy” he said, grinning. “Let’s start with her. What happened between you and Ms. Rivers? What did you tell her?”

“Aww. She’s just a twerp, Dad” I complained, not at all surprised at the indignant “Hey! Watch your mouth!” that instantly came.

“Sorry. But she is!” I insisted. My Dad gave me a hard look and nodded once to get me to continue speaking. “She’s always picking on me, Dad, trying to get me in trouble and having it in for me. That’s why she saw the trot right away… and even though I wasn’t the only one in my class using one, she only called me on it.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mention of a spanking

**Logan’s POV**

And again, I couldn’t help but feel sympathetic towards my little man, because I always had felt the same way while growing up. I had always felt as if the teachers and adults around me weren’t taking me seriously or seeing me for whom I really was, but rather the son of Mitchum Huntzberger, the business owner and benefactor of oh-so-many. The ones that wouldn’t want to impress my family by giving me good grades I didn’t really deserve treated me like shit, as if it was my fault whose son I was. As a direct result of that, I behaved badly, mouthed off whenever I had a go at someone and got into ridiculous and childish troubles all throughout my childhood and teenage years. Scratch that, I even got in stupid trouble when I was a fully-grown man already.

I was glad that Milo didn’t have to grow up with the reputation of having a famous Dad, though, but sometimes, a little bit of that unwanted fame still seemed to get through. Although I didn’t choose the same profession as my Dad and wife and decided to become a doctor instead, there was still the possibility of one of Milo’s teachers not really fancying his family name.

So I definitely saw where he was coming from – that didn’t mean I took kindly to my son insulting other people; people that were calling him on something he did wrong… no, he did need to see reason here, too. But first, I wanted him to finish his side of the story.

“What did you say to her, Milo?” I asked again with a light edge to my voice.

“She took the trot away from me and also my test sheet and that’s what made me angry. I told her that I was sorry about the trot, but she wouldn’t listen and wouldn’t give me my test sheet back” the boy accounted grimly, “And that made me even angrier. She made a big show of it, too, shouting at me in front of the whole class. So I called her a stupid cow.”

The last part he spoke in a whisper, but I heard it anyway. I sighed heavily.

“Milo…” I began, but didn’t know where to go from there. Instead of lecturing him, I gave him another steely look until he dropped his gaze.

“You know what, I’m not going to punish you for it” I finally said, watching in amusement as his head perked up almost instantly.

“You won’t?” he asked, raising both eyebrows. I smirked and shook my head.

“Nope. But I won’t rescue you either. Which means, you will accept any punishment Ms. Rivers gives you and you will apologize for the name-calling and if there are any other comeuppances, you will accept those, too. Like re-doing that test, for example. And since Ms. Rivers is the wife of…”

“… oh no! She’s married to Coach Rivers!” Milo exclaimed unhappily, realization hitting him. “So she’ll probably get him to have me off the hockey team.”

“Aw, I don’t think it will be all that bad, buddy” I felt the urge to reassure him. “And even if he decides to give you a compulsory break, you’re going to accept it, get it over with and that’s all there is to it. You’re not the first student to be in trouble with Ms. Rivers and I have a distinct feeling that you won’t be the last. So just sit it out. Okay?”

“Okay, Dad” he groaned. I sensed that he had wanted to argue with me or maybe plead for me to help him out with that one, but he wisely chose not to do it.

“Good boy” I told him, ruffling his short hair that was exactly like mine. “But if I hear you getting in trouble for swearing at one of your teachers again, I’m going to have to do something about it, like grounding you for quite some time. Got it?”

He nodded begrudgingly.

“Well, that leaves us with only one problem… what the heck were you thinking when you pushed Jordan, in the middle of the school’s driveway, no less?”

My tone had changed from fun, to neutral, to downright serious in all but ten seconds, making my son cringe.

“I don’t suppose I have to list all the things that could have happened to that boy – or to you, if he had decided to fight you back and push you onto the street” I carried on, feeling disappointment and anger at Milo’s foolishness. “Not to mention that I’m really not a fan of you getting into a fight, yet alone start one.”

“I know, Dad, I’m sorry” Milo answered almost immediately. His eyes locked onto mine and I could see that he meant it.

“Why did you do it, then?” I prodded, gentler this time. “I thought you liked Jordan?”

“He was making fun of me because of Ms. Rivers and the test” he explained, sounding hurt. “He said I wasn’t smart enough to be the son of a doctor and a writer, so I needed a trot to get by.”

Phew. Now it was my turn to get really angry, but not at Milo. That little jerk could prepare himself for the worst if he messed with my son! What a spiteful thing to say.

I didn’t let my frustration show, though, and continued looking at Milo with what I hoped was a neutral expression.

“So… when we went outside, he kept calling me ‘Milo the meathead’ and that’s why I pushed him” he ended his explanation ruefully. “I know I shouldn’t have, but I just… wanted him to leave me alone and shut up. Dad, I didn’t mean for him to get hurt, honestly!”

This time, I really couldn’t remain stoic and stern. I knew I should, but I just couldn’t keep the mean-daddy-act up any longer. I gave Milo a soft smile, reached out and gently lifted his chin up, searching for his eyes.

“I’m sorry you had such a tough day, I really am. And I’m sorry that you had to listen to that nonsense” I told him firmly. “You are unbelievably smart, Milo. You’re smart, clever, very kind. You’re a great kid. I count myself lucky every day that I got you for a son.”

I loved the look of pure pride and joy that came over his face at that.

“You really think so?”

“Positive” I said. “Honestly, whom are you going to believe? That Jordan boy or me, your Dad?”

He smiled at me and again, my heart swelled with gratitude that I was this beautiful boy’s father.

“Thanks, Dad” he whispered, then looked at me sheepishly. “Am I still in trouble with you?”

I contemplated his question for a few moments, then nodded sadly.

“I’m afraid so, champ” I said and he tensed up. “You really could have hurt Jordan and the consequences of that would have been catastrophic. You do realize that, don’t you?”

Milo nodded slowly, eyeing me nervously.

“Are you going to…?” he then asked, his voice small and almost fearful, which bugged me more than I liked to admit. I knew, of course, what he had on his mind. And to be completely honest, I had even thought of the possibility of spanking him for the incident, since I knew how much of an impact it had on him. In the end, I decided against it, though. But that didn’t mean that I couldn’t let him sweat a little.

“Do you think I should?” I asked him, raising a single eyebrow at him.

I watched him squirm around and avoiding my gaze once more, until he finally shook his head. “Please don’t, Dad, I’m too old for that! And… I’m really sorry. It won’t happen again, I promise.”

Since he sounded sincere, I chose to put him out of his misery.

“Alright, I won’t” I told him, grinning at the relieved look he shot me. “Not this time, at least. Consider yourself warned, though. If you and I should ever have a similar discussion about you getting into a fight again, your bum is mine. And I actually don’t really care if you’re thirteen, fourteen or even sixteen years old. Do you understand?”

He nodded eagerly.

“I think I’d like a verbal answer to that, please” I pressed, crossing my arms in front of my chest.

“Yes, Dad, I understand” he answered dutifully.

“Good. As for your punishment – you will apologize to Jordan as well, for pushing him” I said pointedly. “I will never punish you for standing up for yourself or for others that cannot do so themselves, but I do expect you to use your words, not your fists. Anyways, your grounding stands, which means that you won’t be using your electronics for the rest of the week and are not allowed to have friends over.”

“Can I go outside with you and the twins? Or do I have to stay in my room?” he asked, eyes wide and full of pleading. I gave him a firm look, fully intending on answering negatively, but somehow, I couldn’t force myself to do so. Way to become soft in your old age, Huntzberger, I told myself inwardly.

“Quit looking at me like a kicked puppy” I exclaimed, throwing my arms up in mock despair. He smiled widely. “Yes, you can go outside and be around the house with us. But no TV, so when the twins are allowed to watch their sorry excuse of a kid’s show before going to bed, you need to go to your room and take care of your homework instead. Fair?”

“Yes! Thanks Dad!” he hooted, hugging me once again. I returned the hug gladly and placed a tender kiss on top of his head, then resting my chin there and breathing in the scent of his shampoo.

“Can we still go and do something fun on the weekend, just the two of us?” he then asked feebly and I almost caved right then, but thought better of it.

“You know what, my offer still stands – if you get an A on the next math test, we can do that” I told him, laughing a little when he groaned. Overdramatic, as always. Teenagers!

“Well, how about we go downstairs so your Mom and the two little tads you call your brother and sister can see for themselves that you’re still in one piece? You can clean up the mess in here later.”

“Yeah, let’s” Milo agreed but made no move to actually get up. I gave him one more kiss to the side of his head and loosened my grip on him. We both stood up from his bed and slowly made our way over to his bedroom door.

“Your brother sure seemed concerned for your well-being” I commented, pulling the door open and ushering my boy outside.

“Yeah, because he knows you too well, Dad” Milo replied cheekily, throwing me a feisty look over his shoulder.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I flustered, aiming a playful swat at his backside but failing as he danced away and made a dash for the staircase. “You know, I’m always nice!”

I could hear him laughing the whole way down the stairs and couldn’t help but smile widely at his antics.

Oh, my little, teenage troublemaker, you’re just too quick for your own good sometimes.

_**The End – for now.** _


End file.
